


Love Laid Down

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16751965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: You look at Sam. “So,” you start, “What does that have to do with us going undercover?”“The parishioners of that church are mostly married couples. This isn’t the type of town where single people move to for work or something. People move here because they’re trying to start a family.”You try not to gulp, looking back over at Dean, who is still glaring at his brother.“How are we going to explain you being there?”Sam grins. “I’m the super supportive younger brother helping his newlywed brother and sister-in-law move into their new home.”“This is going to be a disaster.” You say brightly, your calm tone betraying your words. You’ve done undercover with the Winchesters before. It almost never works out as planned. Someone always slips up, or forgets they’re supposed to be someone else for longer than a day, and then you’re left scrambling not to get caught by the local PD. “When do we leave?”OR: The reader and Dean have to pretend to be married to work a case in Indiana.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi-chap for SPN! Thanks for reading! (PS - title comes from the song of the same name by Green River Ordinance.)

“No.” Dean says, firm, his voice echoing loud in the library of the bunker.

 

“Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, or anything…” you mutter quietly, and Sam sighs.

 

“Can the both of you relax? This is a good plan. It’s only going to be for a week or so, anyway.” 

 

“It’s not our kind of thing,” Dean argues, crossing his arms over his chest. “People go missing all the time.” 

 

“Four people in the last month? All of whom went to the same church in this one small town? That’s weird, Dean.” Sam says.

 

Dean has that look on his face that he gets when he knows he’s wrong, but doesn’t want to admit it. You look at Sam. “So,” you start, “What does that have to do with us going undercover?” 

 

“The parishioners of that church are mostly married couples. This isn’t the type of town where single people move to for work or something. People move here because they’re trying to start a family.” 

 

You try not to gulp, looking back over at Dean, who is still glaring at his brother. 

 

“How are we going to explain you being there?” 

 

Sam grins. “I’m the super supportive younger brother helping his newlywed brother and sister-in-law move into their new home.” 

 

“This is going to be a disaster.” You say brightly, your calm tone betraying your words. You’ve done undercover with the Winchesters before. It almost never works out as planned. Someone always slips up, or forgets they’re supposed to be someone else for longer than a day, and then you’re left scrambling not to get caught by the local PD. “When do we leave?”

 

.

.

.

 

You’re packing some clothes and whatever you’ll need for a week along with your hunting supplies in boxes (“it’ll look more realistic if you’re moving boxes”, Sam said) when Dean knocks on the frame of your door.

 

“Got a minute?” 

 

“Sure.” You say, shoving a box over so he can sit on the edge of the bed. 

 

“If this makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to do it.” He says, and his face is so earnest, you can’t help the laugh that escapes you.

 

“Dean, it’s a fake marriage. It’s fine. We live together anyway.” 

 

“Make sure you pack nicer clothes. For church.” He clarifies, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. You glare - you  _ hate _ dressing outside of your comfort zone. 

 

You sigh. “Fine. Since when are you so on board with this, anyway?” You ask, and he shrugs. 

 

“Didn’t want to hear Sam bitch about it anymore. Besides, how hard can it be? I’ll hold your hand and we’ll suffer through an hour of church on Sunday, and kick ass the other days.” He tries to grin at you, but it’s forced, and awkwardness settles over the room.

 

“Are you going to get a suit?” You ask, and he grimaces.

 

“Why? I already have one.” 

 

You roll your eyes. “You can’t wear your fed suit to church. It’s old.” 

 

“I hate shopping.” 

 

“Just get a new jacket and pants. Wear the blue button up. It looks nicer on you.” You say, folding a few more shirts. You don’t really think about it before the words are out of your mouth, but a lack of response from Dean has you looking up, meeting his eyes.

 

He grins at you, his head tilted, and you groan. 

 

“Shut up.” 

 

“I didn’t say anything.” He saunters back towards the door. “Just glad you take a few minutes out of your day to check me out. That’s all.” 

 

“You are literally the worst. I hope you know that.” You say, flinging a throw pillow at him as he heads out the door, the sound of his laugh echoing in the hallway. 

 

.

 

The next day, the three of you pile into the Impala and head for Indiana. You and Dean have shiny wedding bands on your left ring fingers, and you sort of hate the way your heart stuttered when Dean handed yours to you. There wasn’t any fanfare about it, he just mumbled something about getting this out of the way and took your hand, sliding the ring on before you knew what he was doing. 

 

He barely looks at you after, and there’s something familiar about the ring he slides on his own hand. You’re hardly able to take your eyes off your hand, the added weight unfamiliar but somehow comfortable. 

 

The car ride takes the entire day. It’s pretty much a straight shot to the other side of Kansas, through Missouri and Illinois, and then you’re in Indiana. Sam says that an area hunter close to Indianapolis pulled some strings with a realtor to find a house right in the middle of the quaint downtown. 

 

Dean pulls into the driveway just after nine, and you’re not surprised to see the town already looks like it’s closed for business. Towns like this don’t have midnight operating hours. The house you’re staying in is just how you pictured it - an old style craftsman home complete with painted shutters and a wraparound porch. 

 

“Probably should have brought a less conspicuous car,” you think out loud, and the glare Dean sends your way as he grabs your bag out of the trunk makes you shrink backwards. “Just a thought. Calm down.” 

 

“Let’s get some sleep.” He says gruffly, and you feel a pang of guilt - he drove the entire way, only stopping a few times for gas and snacks, and you can see how weighed down his eyelids are. “We’ll come up with a plan in the morning.” 

 

As promised by the realtor, the key is under the mat, and Sam unlocks the doors as you look around, feeling a prickling on the back of your neck that usually lets you know someone’s watching you. “You feel that?” You murmur quietly to the brothers, and Dean clenches his jaw.

 

“We’ll salt the doors and windows, just in case.” 

 

Inside, you take a minute to look around. You have to admit, the house is a lot like the one you always picture in your daydreams about living a normal life. You know it’s stupid to even waste time thinking about a life where you’re not constantly surrounded by monsters and death omens, but every now and then you  _ do _ think about it.

 

“There’s three bedrooms, so take whichever one you want.” Sam interrupts your thoughts, and you nod at him. “I’m going upstairs. Lock up behind you,” he says, smiling gently. 

 

You notice that Dean has already gone to bed, and sigh as the faint light from the moon catches on the band on your ring finger.  _ This is going to be a long, awkward couple of days _ , you think to yourself.

 

.

.

.

 

In the morning, you wake up as the sun starts to creep into the room, and you jolt upright. You never sleep this long. You get up and stumble into the bathroom attached to your bedroom, trying to familiarize yourself with the space. You shower and brush your teeth before getting dressed and head downstairs, mouth practically watering as you smell breakfast. 

 

Dean’s at the stove, spatula in hand, and the corner of his mouth turns up as he sees you. “Sleeping beauty,” he says, handing you a steaming mug, and you scowl, taking it from him.

 

“Someone should have woken me up.” 

 

“Not like we got a whole lot of plans today, sweetheart.” He says, dishing up three plates of potatoes and scrambled eggs. 

 

“Where’s Sam?” 

 

“Went for a run. This whole suburb thing is perfect for him.” Dean says grumpily, and you smile, trying not to laugh. 

 

“You do any research yet?” 

 

“Not yet. Just brought what we had at the bunker. Thought today you and I could go introduce ourselves to the Pastor at the church.” 

 

“Is that how it works?” You make a face. “I thought we could just show up on Sunday.” 

 

Dean sits next to you at the kitchen island, and you automatically hand him the salt and pepper shakers as he hands you the ketchup. “I’ll case the place a little bit while you’re there telling him all about our domestic bliss.” He smirks, digging into his eggs. 

 

“Yeah, okay.” You agree, not liking the idea of splitting up before you know what you’re dealing with, but you figure the church is the easiest place to start. 

 

When Sam comes back from his run, he showers and changes and tells you and Dean he’s going to the library to see what else he can find out about the missing church-goers. The three of you plan to meet up at a diner you drove past on the way in after your meeting at the church, and Sam tries (and fails) not to laugh at you as you struggle to get comfortable in the sundress you packed specifically for an occasion where you need to look like you have your life together.

 

“Ready to go?” Dean asks, giving you a quick onceover. You nod, and he continues, “Thought we could walk. The church isn’t too far.” Then, quieter, “And you’re probably right about the car being obvious.” 

 

“Score one for me.” You say, nudging his ribs with your elbow, and he rolls his eyes, smiling fondly at you. 

 

“Come on, Mrs. Winchester.” He says, and you make an excuse after you stumble a little bit, the title sounding so strange coming out of his mouth that you don’t really know what to do with yourself. 

 

Dean’s right - it takes a quick five minutes to walk through the downtown and get to the church - five minutes during which Dean goes through a complete transformation. He smiles and says hello to everyone you pass, and even stops to help an old woman load groceries into the trunk of her car. 

 

You’re staring, you know, but it’s just so  _ weird _ . Not that Dean isn’t a good person. Despite what he thinks, you know he’s one of the best men you know, but it’s never this  _ overt _ . 

 

“Just trying to play my part, kid. You could try it, you know.” He grumbles when he catches your wide-eyed look. 

 

“I don’t think I could do a better job than you. You’re being more than neighborly enough for the both of us.” You tease, and he flushes. 

 

“Good morning,” a voice calls from in front of the church, and you look up to see a middle-aged woman with pruning shears in her hand coming towards you, a smile on her face. “I’m sorry for being so nosy, but I don’t think I know the two of you.” 

 

“We’re the Winchesters,” you say, introducing yourself and Dean. 

 

“I’m Melissa! I work here at the church doing… well, all sorts of things.” She says, smiling, and that feeling of being watched comes back to you almost worse than it was the night before. 

 

Dean’s smile is tight, but it goes unnoticed to Melissa, who keeps talking about how nice it is to see new faces at the church. 

 

“We’re hoping to speak with the Pastor, to introduce ourselves before the service on Sunday.” Dean says, and Melissa positively lights up. 

 

“That is so nice of you! He’ll be so happy to meet you. Let me go inside and make sure he’s not busy, and I’ll be back in a jiff. You can wait right in here, in the lobby.” She says, leading you inside the classic looking church. 

 

As soon as she’s gone, Dean is looking around warily. “Was it just me, or does she seem a little Stepford to you?” 

 

“She does  _ all sorts of things _ ?” You ask. “Am I just being paranoid, or does that sound super creepy?” 

 

“Definitely creepy.” Dean whispers, looking up to see Melissa coming back with a well dressed man who you assume is the Pastor. 

 

“Hi there,” he says, holding out his hand for Dean to shake. “I’m Pastor Williams. Melissa tells me you’re new to town?” 

 

“Just moved in this weekend.” You say, smiling. “We were hoping to come to Sunday service, but didn’t want to intrude.” 

 

“Nonsense! We’d be happy to have you.” 

 

He starts asking Dean about work and the move, and you zone out for a minute, taking in the surroundings of the church. It just seems so… dark, inside. For a building that has access to this much natural light, it seems strange that the interior doesn’t match the bright outdoors covered with beautiful landscaping. 

 

Dean says your name, and your gaze snaps to his, where his face is tinged with impatience. You want to roll your eyes, but don’t. “Thank you,” you say sweetly, to Pastor Williams. “We’ll be seeing you Sunday, then.” 

 

“Don’t be strangers,” he replies, shaking Dean’s hand. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around town.” 

 

Dean leads you out the front door, his hand hovering over the small of your back. As soon as you’re outside and out of earshot, you turn to him. 

 

“There’s something weird about that place. Did you notice how dark it was in there?” 

 

“So what are you thinking? Spirits?” 

 

You shake your head. “Have you ever met a spirit that kidnapped people?” 

 

“We’ll have to do more digging. We don’t even know if these missing people are alive.” 

 

“Can we eat first?” You complain, your stomach growling on cue. 

 

Dean glances sideways at you as you walk down to the center of town. “We had breakfast a half hour ago.” 

 

“Come on. I’ll buy you pie.” 

 

Dean grins, laughing. “Now you’re talking.” He slings his arm around your shoulders as you walk to the diner down the street, and you laugh with him, trying to ignore the feeling you haven’t been able to shake since the night before - someone is watching you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the Winchesters keep investigating why couples in a small town in Indiana are going missing, and the sexual tension between you and Dean ratchets up a notch.

“So, what did you guys find out?” Sam asks, when you get back to the house.

 

“Nothing useful.” You say, and Dean glares at you. “What?” You turn to Sam. “It’s true. We just made small talk. The Pastor seems normal. His assistant Melissa seems a little… out there. Dean was  _ supposed _ to case the place--”

 

“How was I going to do that with Pastor Whatshisname watching me?” 

 

“Williams.” You say, “And you could have made an excuse. Asked where the bathroom was or something.” 

 

“We’ll just do it on Sunday,” Dean grumbles, plopping down on the couch. “Everyone will be in Sanctuary and I can slip out for a few minutes.” 

 

“I met a few other joggers on my run,” Sam says, cracking open a water bottle. “They didn’t know much about the disappearances. Just kept saying it was ‘such a shame’.” 

 

You frown. “Seems like a small town like this would be more concerned if people were disappearing en masse.” 

 

Sam nods. “That’s what I thought, too. I didn’t want to seem too suspicious though. I told them about you guys, by the way. Don’t be surprised if neighbors start showing up.” 

 

Dean groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. You echo his sentiments, not liking the thought of people coming around unannounced and uninvited. You already have no idea who or what you’re looking for, and you’ve been feeling paranoid ever since you arrived in town. 

 

“Let’s just hang out and play it cool for a few days while we figure out what we’re dealing with. We still need to figure out the similarities between the victims.” 

 

You sigh. “So, the library?” 

 

Sam laughs, “Don’t sound too excited.” 

 

.

.

 

You’re at the library with Sam for  _ hours _ . Four people come over to you to introduce themselves, and you’re sort of astounded at how quickly word spreads. It does nothing to lessen your paranoia, and Sam calls you out on it.

 

“Okay,” he says, putting down the newspaper he’s reading, “what’s going on? You’re acting weirder than usual.” 

 

“First,” you say, glaring, “that’s rude. Second… there’s nothing going on. I’m fine.” 

 

“You’re being weird. Did something happen?” 

 

“No! I just… I don’t know, Sam, something doesn’t feel right. I’ve been feeling so paranoid ever since we got here.” 

 

Sam eyes you closely. “Let’s get out of here. You look like you could use some sleep.” 

 

“No kidding.” You mutter, “Dean’s probably back from the police station by now, anyway.” 

 

While you were at the library, Dean was going to check out the police department under the guise of looking for a buddy of his who used to work there. It was a stretch that in such a small town they wouldn’t realize he was talking about someone who had never worked there, but you figured that no one in this place knew who Dean really was, even if he was using his real name. 

 

Getting back to the house, you’re greeted with the mouthwatering smell of something cooking on the stove. “Oh my god,” you say, turning the corner to the kitchen to see Dean flipping some hamburgers, “you’re my hero.” 

 

“Hungry?” He asks, grinning. “How was the library?” 

 

“Interesting.” Sam says.

 

“Boring,” you say at the same time, and you snigger. “Sorry, Sammy. It was… I don’t know. We didn’t figure really anything out. But I met probably all of our neighbors.”

 

“Me too.” Dean says, putting a plate in front of you. “They bought my shitty excuse for being there, anyway. I told them I used to be a detective and was looking for an old partner of mine. They were so excited they showed me around the entire place.” 

 

“Anything weird?” Sam asks, before taking a bite of his food. 

 

Dean shakes his head. “No, not really. No sulfur, no trace of EMF, nothing. I have no idea what we’re looking for. We need to find the missing person’s reports.” 

 

Sam nods. “I tried to find them online but came up empty. Nothing at the library, either.”

 

“They’re still open cases,” you point out. “Maybe we can ask the Pastor about it. Some of their friends must have come to him for comfort after church.”

 

Dean nods. “Good idea. Now, let’s eat, and then get some sleep. I’m exhausted.” 

 

.

 

You’re researching on your laptop in the middle of the night when you hear a noise in the kitchen. Freezing, you quickly reach under your pillow for your gun, and curse when you realize it isn’t there. You remember you left it in the trunk in the Impala, and roll your eyes at yourself.

 

Hearing more noise, you pad quietly to your duffel in the corner and grab the knife in the lining, making sure you have a good solid grip before slipping out of your bedroom, heading down the stairs.

 

You’re silent as you creep around the first floor, checking the front and side door before you head to the kitchen. Your heart is pounding, the paranoia from the last two days causing you to be on edge more than usual. 

 

When you turn the corner, your heart slams against your rib cage as you’re suddenly face-to-face with Dean. 

 

“Christ,” you breathe, and he steps backwards, hands up. 

 

“Looking to shiv someone, kid?” 

 

“You scared me!” 

 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

 

“Why are you making so much noise?!” 

 

“I got hungry!” He says defensively, and you roll your eyes, letting your arm with the gun drop. He doesn’t say anything else, and when you look back at him, his eyes snap to yours. Suddenly you realize what you’re wearing - nothing but a tank top and some tiny sleep shorts. You blush, and thank God it’s dark enough in here that hopefully he can’t see. 

 

“I wasn’t asleep either. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep.” You admit, and he takes a few steps closer.

 

“Come on, I have an idea.” He says, and you follow him back upstairs. 

 

Dean leads you back to your bedroom, and grabs your laptop, despite your protest. “Come on, sit down.” He says, and you grin when you see him opening Netflix. “We never finished that documentary.” He says quietly, not looking away from the screen. 

 

“Good idea,” you say, hoping some of the awkwardness will dissipate. You plop down next to him and set the laptop in between the two of you as you lean backwards against the headboard. 

 

You make it almost an hour before you start to feel your eyes drooping, and before you can remind yourself why sleeping next to Dean Winchester is a bad idea, you’re asleep.

 

In the morning, the first thing you register is how warm you are. You snuggle closer to your heat source, and sigh in contentment, thinking to yourself that you could easily stay this warm and this comfortable for the rest of your life. 

 

Your eyes fly open when an arm snakes around your waist and tugs you backwards into a hard body, and you remember where you are.  _ Dean _ . 

 

You freeze, hoping he’s not awake, and not really sure what you’ll do if he is. You don’t hear anything, and his breathing remains steady, so you close your eyes and take a deep breath, willing your racing heart to calm down. 

 

It’s just -- this is  _ Dean _ . Your friend. Your best friend, really. You don’t know why you agreed to this whole fake marriage thing. You have always had feelings for Dean, even though you’ve been pretty good at shoving them aside so they don’t ruin things. He’s insanely attractive, and you think that just the right look from him would probably light you up if you let it. 

 

Next to you, Dean’s breathing picks up, and you instinctively know he’s awake. You don’t move, wondering what you should say, when you feel his fingers flex slightly.  _ He thinks you’re asleep _ , you think to yourself, and will yourself to stay calm as you try to take a cue from him and figure out what to do. 

 

Dean moves, slowly, and if you were truly asleep you think you never would have noticed. He scoots an inch closer to you, and you can picture him peeking over your shoulder to try to see if you’re asleep or not. His breath tickles your neck, and you shiver, unable to help yourself. 

 

Dean whispers your name, but you don’t reply, too nervous to answer him even if you wanted to. You concentrate on keeping your breathing even, and hoping he’ll back off before you do something stupid like turn around and kiss him. 

 

Dean’s hand moves, sliding up your ribcage before landing on your arm, ghosting along up towards your shoulder. The touch is so light you can barely feel it, but that’s almost worse. His touch is whisper soft and lighting your veins on fire. 

 

You’re just about to roll over and do something dumb when he moves, easing himself out of the bed next to you. You let out a small breath of relief, but also feel disappointment sweep over you. 

 

You wait until he leaves the room before you push to lay flat on your back, taking a deep breath.  _ What the hell was that?  _

 

.

.

 

You’re at the grocery store with Sam and Dean later that day when you run into Melissa from the church. She greets you and Dean with a smile and looks at Sam inquisitively before Dean introduces his brother. 

 

“You three should stop by the church social tonight!” She says excitedly, and you force a smile even though on the inside you’re thinking that you’d rather be anywhere but at a church social.

 

“Maybe we will,” you say instead, looking at Dean for help. 

 

“Uh--” He stutters, “We’re still trying to unpack, but if we finish in enough time, we’ll stop by.” He throws her a million dollar smile and that seems to be enough to put off her suspicion for the time being.

 

After getting the groceries and leaving the store, Sam says quietly, “Something’s weird about her.” 

 

“That’s what we thought.” Dean says, grim. “This whole town seems freaky. Look,” Dean says, gesturing, “There’s hardly anyone outside. It’s a nice day, and for a town that’s planning a party, the welcoming committee isn’t out.” 

 

Dean’s right; you look around and see a few people coming in and out of shops, but other than that, there’s no foot traffic, nobody driving down the center of town, and only a few people inside the diner you ate at the day before.

 

“This whole place gives me the creeps. Let’s just figure out what the hell we’re hunting and get out of here.” You say, heading down the street, Dean and Sam a couple steps behind you. 

 

You take a few hours to do more research into the missing people. All you have to go on are news reports from the neighboring towns, nothing from this one itself. That strikes you as weird in and of itself. No reporting done on missing people, even though they’re going at almost a rate of four people per month.

 

“You know,” Dean says, around a mouthful of chips, “This reminds me of that one place… Sammy, you remember? That was in Indiana, too. The teenagers were going missing.” 

 

“The scarecrow town?” Sam asks, furrowing his brow. “I guess so, but didn’t our ritual send the God they were worshipping packing?” 

 

Dean shrugs. “That was before the seals and the apocalypse and all that shit. Who knows what got out.” 

 

“I’ve got something.” You say, squinting at your laptop. “Only one of the papers mentions it, but we’ve got nothing else to go on. All the couples that disappeared are married, right?”

 

Sam nods. 

 

“They’re also newlyweds. No one missing had been married for more than six months.” 

 

Dean stares at you. “I’m missing something.” 

 

“It’s more than we had to go on before! I’m just saying. What if there’s some kind of… I don’t know, ritual thing going on at the church? We need to find out if these couples got married by Pastor Williams.” 

 

“We better head down to the social if we want to talk to him.” Sam says, and Dean groans. 

 

“I hate church parties. Do I have to wear a tie?” 

 

You grin. “Probably a sweater, too.” 

 

Dean flips you off, and you laugh, heading upstairs to change. You grab a dress that you thought to pack at the last second, and throw it into the dryer on the first floor of the house to get the wrinkles out. While you’re waiting, you head back upstairs to get started on doing something with your hair. You don’t want the church ladies to think you’re a harlot, after all, you think to yourself, snickering. 

 

“Dryer stopped,” Sam says, appearing in the doorway with your dress.

 

“Thanks, dude.” 

 

Sam looks at you for a minute, shaking his head. 

 

“What?” You ask, “And be very careful with what you say next, Sam Winchester.” You threaten, and he laughs. 

 

“It’s nothing bad! Just wondering what Dean’s going to think when he sees you, is all.” 

 

You glare at him, trying not to blush. “Do you really think I picked out this outfit because I care what  _ Dean _ thinks?” 

 

“No, not at all.” Sam’s clearly trying not to laugh, and you resist the urge to throw something at him. “We’re going to leave in twenty.” He says, before leaving you to get dressed, wondering if you were going to make it through this hunt without seriously injuring one or both of the Winchesters.

 

.

.

 

Dean’s holding your hand.

 

It’s stupid. It’s insignificant, really, but all you can think about is how warm and rough his palm is against yours as he twines your fingers together absentmindedly, tugging you through the crowd of people to get you both something to drink. 

 

“Will you relax?” He whispers, “You’re going to give us away.” 

 

“Sorry if I’m a little tense,” you snap back, and he stops short, causing you to almost run into him. To anyone watching, you look like a couple having a quiet, private conversation, but they can’t see the way Dean’s eyes are burning into yours with concern and just a little bit of annoyance. 

 

“You need to get a better game face.” He says quietly. “We have to fool all these people. And hell, if all the research you’re doing ends up to be correct, then acting like we’re married also makes us bait. If we want to catch whatever’s doing this, we have to play our parts. Okay?” The last part is quiet and gentle, but you still feel the sting of his reprimand, and have to remind yourself that he’s been doing this so much longer than you have. 

 

“Look at me.” He whispers, and you look up, a little startled at just how close he is to you. “We can do this. You and me, okay? Just have to pretend that you give a shit about this fuckin’ picnic.” He says, and it’s so  _ Dean _ that you can’t help it - you laugh.

 

“That’s better.” He says, lips twitching as he gives way to a smile. “Come on. I’m starving. I heard someone say something about fried chicken.” 

 

On your way to get some food, you meet up with Sam, who looks like he’s having an uncomfortable conversation with an older woman near the food table. “Dean! Good, just in time.” Sam looks at the older woman, “Lucinda, can you tell my brother what you just told me? My brother and his wife are newlyweds, so I’m sure they’d love to hear your story.” He says warmly. 

 

“I was just telling your brother here that it’s such a shame that you couldn’t have moved here before you got married! They have the nicest weddings at the church.” 

 

“Oh?” You ask, looking sideways at Dean, “We’re sorry we missed out,” you tell her, smiling sweetly. 

 

“Everyone in town, almost, has gotten married right here at this church. People used to go out to the old barn on the highway - the one with the apple trees - and have their weddings, but now they all go on right in there. Such a nice tradition.” She says, before excusing herself to go talk to a friend. 

 

Sam leans in close. “We need to get inside that church.” 

 

You nod. “Dean and I can go inside. Everyone’s out here. This might be the only chance we get before service on Sunday.” 

 

Sam nods. “I’ll keep watch. Go ahead.” 

 

Dean takes your hand again, pulling you through the throng of people and up the church steps. The large wooden doors are propped open, so you slip inside after Dean, checking to make sure no one’s watching you. 

 

“Come on,” Dean says, walking towards the back of the church, where the offices are. Along the way, you’re checking under the rugs and paintings for any signs of ritualistic symbols. 

 

After a few minutes, you split up. You head towards the Pastor’s office, hoping that it’s unlocked, and smile in victory when the door opens without any resistance. You look around quickly, but don’t notice anything out of the ordinary until your eyes catch on an antique looking safe behind Pastor Williams’ desk. 

 

Walking over, you try to figure out what it could be for. You suppose it could be for any number of things, but some instinct in you is telling you you  _ need _ to get that safe open. You’re close to crouching down to crack it, but before you do, Dean comes in the room, pulling you to your feet.

 

“We’ve got company,” he says, pulling you out into the hallway. “Shit.” He swears as he hears voices getting closer. 

 

“I’ve got an idea,” you say, tugging his arm so he follows you into a small alcove in the corridor. “Play cool.” You tell him, but he still jumps when your arms slide around his neck, tugging him closer so you’re only inches apart.

 

“Kid…” His voice is husky as he tries to figure out what you’re doing. 

 

“Shh,” you tell him, listening as the footsteps get closer. You take a step even closer to Dean until your legs are practically intertwined and try not to pay attention to the way his breathing is shallow. 

 

“... meet you back here after dark, and-- oh!” Melissa’s voice is loud as she interrupts you, “Mr. and Mrs. Winchester!” 

 

You and Dean jump apart, guiltily, and you’re thankful that the flush on both of your faces can hopefully be attributed to being “caught”. 

 

“I’m so embarrassed... “ you start, looking at Melissa and Pastor Williams. “We just… we wanted a few minutes of quiet, and well…” you trail off, looking at Dean. 

 

Pastor Williams smiles. “To be young and newly married.” He says. “I remember those days.” 

 

You perk up, “Oh, I’d love to meet your wife. Is she outside?”

 

A shadow passes over the Pastor’s face. “No, she’s not well.” 

 

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” You say, and Dean nods.

 

“We’ll get out of here. Sorry for this,” he says, “Really.” 

 

“Not to worry. You kids go back outside and have fun.” 

 

You and Dean hustle outside and he grabs your elbow before you can start looking for Sam. “Did he seem a little cagey about his wife?” 

 

“Definitely. Seems like we need to find out more about Mrs. Williams.” You say. 

 

Dean stares at you a minute longer, opening his mouth like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. He scratches the back of his head, a move you’ve seen him do a million times when he feels uncomfortable, and you feel dread sink into your stomach. Did you take your act too far? Did you push him too much? 

 

“Let’s go find Sam.” Dean murmurs, and lets go of you, leaving you to trail after him, hoping you haven’t done anything to ruin your closest friendship. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sam visit Pastor Williams’ wife to see if she knows more than she’s letting on, and listen to a shocking new piece of evidence that could lead you to figuring out what happened to the missing couples. Dean has a revelation.

The Pastor’s home is a quaint house not far from the one you’re renting, white picket fence out front giving off the perfect air of small town life. You approach cautiously, feeling that same prickly feeling on the back of your neck that just won’t go away. 

 

Sam is behind you, and you look back at him, seeing him looking around warily. He feels it too, you think, and you double check that you’ve got your gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans and your knife tucked into your boot. 

 

“You wanna go over this again?” Sam asks you, and you shake your head.

 

“No, I’ve got it. New in town, the Pastor said you weren’t well, wanted to introduce ourselves, here’s a pie, yada yada.” 

 

Sam nods. “When she asks about why we moved?” 

 

“Dean and I are newly married and wanted a fresh start.” You repeat, feeling like a robot. You’ve gone over this a hundred times. 

 

As you were talking on the walk over, Sam has been more and more convinced that the key to figuring out what’s going on is behind the front door of the Pastor’s home. You were a little freaked, too. Not just because of the feelings you’ve been having that are making you increasingly more paranoid, but because you can’t shake how weird it was when Pastor Williams told you and Dean about his sick wife.

 

He didn’t say anything about what was wrong, and no one else seemed to mention her. When you asked a neighbor about her, the woman straight up turned pale. It’s weird, especially for a small town that seems to treat each other like family.

 

You nod at Sam, and he knocks gently on the door. If the woman really is sick, you don’t want to startle her. There’s still a chance that whatever’s going on in this place has nothing to do with her, and you don’t want to rub her the wrong way if that ends up being the case.

 

The door creaks open, and you plaster a smile on your face. “Hi, Mrs. Williams?” 

 

She looks suspicious. “Do I know you?” 

 

“Sorry,” Sam interjects, “I’m Sam and this is my sister-in-law. We’re new in town and just wanted to drop by and say hello. We heard you haven’t been feeling well.” 

 

Her eyes dart around like she’s looking for someone, but she looks back at you quickly, mustering a small smile. “Please, come in.” 

 

You walk into the living room, and you force yourself not to freeze in your tracks when walk over the threshold, hearing a  _ crunch _ under your shoes. Looking down, your brows furrow when you see it.

 

Salt. 

 

In a thin, neat line, Mrs. Williams has table salt right under where the front door would be if it were closed, out of sight. You clench your jaw, wondering how wrong you could have gotten this. She might not be the cause of whatever’s happening here, but she knows who is.

 

“I don’t get many visitors. Not since… not since I became sick.” She finishes, and you can see the lie in her eyes so clearly. As you make eye contact, it’s almost like she knows you aren’t who you say you are and is begging you to see through what she’s telling you.

 

Sam smiles gently. “We brought a pie. Do you mind if we sit down for a minute?” 

 

“Not at all, and please, it’s Connie.” 

 

“Connie.” You smile. “Can I be honest with you?” You ask, and Sam’s eyes snap to yours, a warning in them. You ignore him, and continue, your instincts screaming at you. “My husband and I didn’t move here to get a fresh start.” 

 

Sam says your name, but you ignore him. 

 

“We came here because we heard about the missing people, and we want to help. My husband was a detective.” 

 

Her face shutters, and you think you’ve just made a mistake that could stop the case in its tracks, or get you killed. Or both.

 

“Did I give myself away?” She asks quietly, and Sam’s head whips around to stare at her, mouth agape. “I’ve done everything-- everything I can to protect myself, but I don’t know how much longer--” 

 

“Connie.” Sam says urgently. “Wait. You know what’s happening here?” 

 

“Of course I know.” She says bitterly. “It’s all partly my fault.” 

 

.

.

 

Dean is fidgeting. He’s been in this big ass creepy house by himself for the last two hours, and he’s still jumpy from what happened at the church with you this morning. He has no idea what the hell is happening to him.

 

He should have known not to agree to this plan Sam cooked up. Right from the beginning, he should have kept objecting until you both dropped it. Now it’s all going to shit, and he wants to punch something. 

 

He remembers the tone of your voice after church, and how you wouldn’t look at him when you suggested that you go with Sam to interview the Pastor’s wife. He could kick himself. He let himself get lost in the act, lost in the moment you were putting on back there at the church.

 

But then there’s a part of him that wonders… there was no one around. The way you looked at him… it’s almost like you forgot what you were doing, too. He knows it doesn’t do any good to think about this any longer, especially because if something were going to happen, it would have by now, wouldn’t it?

 

But you were out with Sam. 

 

He grinds his teeth and then looks up when he sees you running up the front steps, Sam hot on your heels. His heart rate spikes, immediately thinking something is wrong, and he flings open the front door before you can get to it, causing you to run straight into him, his free arm going around your waist to keep you upright. 

 

“Dean,” you breathe, and he stares at you, his emotions on overdrive. “We figured it out.” You say, and he pushes you inside before doing the same to Sam, checking the street to make sure no one’s watching you. 

 

You’re pacing, much like Dean just was, when he comes back into the living room. “It’s the wife.” 

 

“What? She did it?” 

 

“No, no.” Sam interjects. “She… well, she thinks she caused all this, and I think she might be right.” 

 

You stop pacing, grabbing Dean by the arm. “We went to her house, right? As soon as she let us in I noticed there was a salt line by the front door. Table salt, but still. She knew something was coming after her.” 

 

It’s becoming hard for Dean to ignore the way he feels when he watches you like this - eyes lit up with the thrill of solving the case, the excitement palpable in your words. 

 

Sam picks up where you left off, “She said when she and Pastor Williams moved here, the entire town was in economic downturn. Shops were closing, people were moving. It was like they were cursed. So, she and her husband prayed.” 

 

Dean frowns. “Shit. They weren’t just praying to no one, were they?” 

 

“No.” You say, practically bouncing on your feet. “They got someone’s attention. At first, things just started happening - the crops started growing again, and the well in town that hasn’t worked in years started flowing again.” 

 

“And no one thought that was weird?” Dean asks.

 

“They’re people of the church, Dean.” Sam says. “They just thought their prayers were being answered. And they were, but it was by a pagan God. Not by, well, Chuck.” 

 

Dean swears. “Don’t tell me--”

 

Sam nods. “It’s just like that case we worked before.” 

 

“The fuckin’ scarecrow.” 

 

“What?” You interrupt, looking confused. 

 

“Dean and I worked a case once where a pagan God was taking sacrifices to keep the town afloat.” 

 

“We have no idea if that part is actually happening. But Connie -- Pastor Williams’ wife -- seemed pretty sure that whatever has been taking people was going to come after her next.”

 

Dean frowns. “Why? If she’s on the right side of this…” 

 

“She isn’t.” You say, “That’s the problem. Once she noticed people were disappearing, she told her husband what she thought, and he wouldn’t listen to her. He started telling her to stay at home, so she couldn’t go blabbing around to the rest of the town that whatever was happening wasn’t natural.” 

 

“He made it all up about her being sick.” 

 

“Yep,” you say, “but that’s not the worst part. There’s one couple left that hasn’t made the ultimate sacrifice.” You use finger quotes.

 

“Shit.” Dean says again. “The salt line… she’s trying to keep it out so she can’t be sacrificed?” 

 

“That’s what we think. She wouldn’t say anything. She said she didn’t know who was listening, and she’s still not sure that her husband is trying to protect her. She can’t get a read on him, and since people have still been disappearing, she doesn’t think he’s done anything to stop all this.”

 

“So what are we going to do? Hide her? Get her the hell out of town?” 

 

“We have to kill whatever it is, Dean.” You say, looking at him like he’s grown two heads. He feels so anxious about going after this, knowing that Pagan Gods are no joke, if you’re all right and Connie is telling the truth. 

 

He can’t stand the thought of you being tied to a stake and almost killed like he and Sam were the last time they came up against something like this. 

 

“Let’s just take a minute and figure this out. We’ll grab a bite and come up with a plan.” 

 

“I’m not sure we have time, Dean.” Sam says. “We’re not sure who exactly this Pagan god even is, and if it’s coming after people, we’re on borrowed time.” 

 

Dean’s palms are itchy at the thought of something coming after you, and he wants to tell you to take the Impala and get as far away from here as you possibly can. 

 

He’s so fucked.

 

.

.

 

You’ve done all the preparations you possibly can, and you’re practically dead on your feet as you get back to the house that night with Sam and Dean.

 

The plan is to do a summoning spell and essentially trap whoever’s taking people in this town. You’re a little worried about what will happen to this place afterwards, but it can’t be worse than their own neighbors and friends sacrificing themselves month after month. 

 

“Get some sleep,” Sam says. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” He disappears down the long hallway to the bedroom he picked out for himself, and you can see the light on underneath Dean’s door, though he doesn’t come out or say anything when you walk by.

 

You’re so tired you don’t even stop to change your clothes - you just kick your shoes off and lay on top of the comforter, sleep overtaking you almost as soon as you close your eyes.

 

In the middle of the night, you’re startled awake. You don’t know by what, but your eyes snap open and you suck in a deep breath, the feeling of someone watching you greater than it’s been at any point during this hunt. Your eyes dart to the open door of the bedroom, and you freeze, knowing you pulled it shut behind you before you fell asleep.

 

Getting out of bed slowly, you tiptoe to the door, looking for any indicator that either of the Winchesters are up for a midnight snack, or having trouble sleeping. The house is all dark, except for a shadow you see move from right to left out of the corner of your eye.

 

The hairs on your arms stand on end as you duck back into your room, rooting through your bag quickly for your gun. Once you have a good grip, you pad quietly down the hallway, heading towards the stairs where you saw the shadow go down.

 

Dean’s door creaks open and you aim, just in case, but quickly lower it when you see him looking at you, alarmed. 

 

“Someone is in the house.” You whisper, and his face turns to steel. He gestures for you to head downstairs.

 

“Right behind you, kid.” 

 

You go down the stairs slowly, waiting for Dean’s eyes to adjust to the dark. There’s a rustling noise from the living room, and you both turn quickly at the noise, guns pointed towards the large room. Before you can get there, the shadow is in front of you suddenly, pushing you backwards hard, so you stumble and hit the wall, struggling to keep your balance.

 

Dean goes after it, but you can already see whoever or whatever it is out the broken side door, Dean left standing there, gun raised. He turns back to you as you get to your feet, arm reaching for your elbow.

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

“I’m fine. Did you get a good look?” 

 

“Not really.” He shakes his head. “Someone’s suspicious.” He gestures towards the living room, where his laptop is on its side, but thankfully not broken. Your bag has been rifled through, papers strewn about the room. You’re grateful there was nothing important left inside - none of you are dumb enough to leave it that stuff around where anyone could find it. “Did you hear them break in?” He asks, and you shake your head.

 

“No. I just… I woke up. Felt like someone was watching me.” 

 

Dean clenches his jaw. “Come on. I’ll camp out with you tonight.” 

 

“You don’t have t--”

 

“I’m not going to let some perv try to break in here and watch you while you sleep again.” Dean says, his voice gravelly. “This isn’t a discussion. Come on.” 

 

You roll your eyes, but go upstairs anyway, glaring at him when he very pointedly holds open your bedroom door so you can go inside before him. “I don’t need a babysitter.” 

 

“I didn’t say you did.” 

 

“I also don’t need you to hang around and--”

 

“If you want me to go, I’ll go.” He says, interrupting you, and you’re a little thrown off when you hear genuine hurt in his voice. You meet his eyes, and can see it the moment before he throws his walls back up - there’s emotion there that you’re not sure how to define. “Forget it,” he says, heading for the door.

 

“Dean, wait.” You say, before you can talk yourself out of it. “Look... “ you trail off, feeling uncomfortable. This feels different, and you don’t know why. It’s just Dean. “Just-- just lay down before I change my mind.” 

 

He mumbles something under his breath, but as you’re pulling back the sheets on the bed, you see it before he can manage to hide the small smile on his lips. 

 

After going to the bathroom to finally get out of your clothes from the day, you’re exhausted again, and more than ready to get back to sleep. When you come back in the room, Dean is already asleep on the left side of the bed, his arm outstretched towards the side where you’d be sleeping.

 

Your heart does a weird flip in your chest at the sight, but you force yourself to remember that this is not a big deal. It’s just Dean, doing what he does for everyone - take care of them. Still, something about his face - worry lines smoothed with sleep and lashes full against his cheekbone - makes you stop and stare at him, wondering when you started feeling like this. 

 

You get into bed slowly, not wanting to wake him up, and sigh at the warmth you can already feel radiating from him as your eyes slip shut.

 

.

.

 

Dean wakes up when he feels a weight settle on his chest, and he furrows his brow, his eyes struggling to adjust to the sunlight streaming into the room. It takes him a minute to remember where he is, but he’s forcefully brought back to the present by you rolling over with a huff, still asleep, flinging your arm across his chest as you get comfortable.

 

His entire body goes tense, waiting for you to wake up and realize where you are. The moment never comes, though, and your soft breath against his neck makes him melt into you, just a little. Feeling selfish, he lets himself look at you, relaxed and unguarded with sleep.

 

The lines around your eyes are diminished, the ever-present crease between your brows that you get when you’re thinking are gone. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to touch you, in fear that you’ll wake up and slap the daylights out of him.

 

He’s struck for a minute by how  _ right _ it feels to have you here with him, like this. He doesn’t let himself wish for things often, but he lets himself do it this one time. He wishes that he could be a normal person, with a normal life, that could be the type of guy you would want.

 

He wishes that you weren’t all on a hunt, that this wasn’t some engineered plan to lure out a monster. He wishes that the rest of the day would just disappear - no killing, no possibility of anyone getting hurt, or worse.

 

He wishes he could keep you safe. 

 

Someone was in the house last night, someone who probably already knows you three aren’t who you say you are, and he’s terrified that you’re already two steps behind. The realization that this could go horribly, horribly wrong is what makes up his mind for him -- his arm slipping down around your shoulders as he tugs you closer.

 

He tells himself it’s just reassurance that he needs right now, and shoves that little voice that says it’s something more way down deep in his gut.

 

He’s just got to get you through this day, and then he’ll start figuring out what the hell is going on inside his head, and his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the Winchesters finally prepare to put your plan into action to stop whoever is kidnapping married couples in Indiana.

The next day, you come downstairs and startle when you see Sam dressed at the table, his shirt and tie wrinkle-free. “What are you doing?” He asks when he sees you, and you glare at him.

 

“Excuse you?” 

 

“We have to leave in a half hour!” Sam stands up and turns you around by your shoulders, sending you back upstairs. “You can’t possibly have forgot about church.” 

 

“I’m sorry… are we not killing a monster today?” You ask because getting dressed in  _ real _ clothes is the last thing you want to do today. “Didn’t Dean tell you what happened last night?” 

 

“He did,” Sam says, huffing, “And that’s why we have to keep up appearances. Someone already knows what we’re up to, but we have to get the drop on them.” 

 

“Fine,” you groan, heading back upstairs. You almost run into Dean in the hallway, and he doesn’t meet your eyes as he apologizes for not looking where he’s going and brushes past you to get to the other bedroom to get dressed.

 

You stare after him, feeling like you’re missing something.

 

.

.

 

When you come back downstairs, both boys are waiting for you impatiently, tapping their feet as they stand at the bottom of the stairs. Rolling your eyes, you reach for your shoes once you get to the bottom of the steps. “Calm down.” 

 

“Do we need to go over this again? You guys have to act your parts. If whoever’s doing this knows we suspect them--”

 

“I chased someone out of the house last night.” Dean says, dryly. “They already know we suspect them.” 

 

“Just play cool, alright? For the next two hours, you guys need to be the epitome of a happy, married couple.” 

 

You sneak a look at Dean, and he’s already glancing at you, brows furrowed. You can’t help but feel self conscious. He was… different, last night. He’s been acting different. You don’t really know what to do about it. It was all just an act. All you have to do is pretend to be in love for a few hours. 

 

It can’t be that hard to be convincing.

 

The three of you decide to drive to church that morning in the event you have to make a quick getaway back to the house, and you stare out the window as Dean drives slowly down Main Street, looking for a place to park in front of the church. 

 

When you get out of the car, you straighten out the skirt on your dress and frown when you look up to see Melissa and another woman you don’t recognize staring at you as people file inside. They look away when you make eye contact, and you start to wonder if you’ve overlooked the most obvious suspect. 

 

You turn to say something to Sam, but stop when Dean walks up to you, arm outstretched, fingers wiggling. 

 

“We’ve got an audience,” he murmurs, lacing his fingers with yours. He gives your hand a squeeze, and you’re struggling to understand why you feel a little dazed. “Come on.” 

 

He walks slowly with you, making a crack to Sam about his suit, but you’re barely paying attention. Dean’s thumb is stroking over your palm lightly, and you have to fight back the shiver that wants to roll through your body.

 

You kind of hate yourself for getting caught up in this act you’re playing with Dean. You know nothing will come of it, and even if… no. You don’t even let yourself be entertained with “what if” thoughts. You’re hunters. And even if you weren’t… Dean’s too closed off right now (and for good reason) to let you in. You’re the same way. Both of you with walls so high it’s impossible for anyone else to get in.

 

Besides, Dean’s your best friend, the person you trust most in the world, and you could never do anything to jeopardize that. Especially when you’re not sure that he returns whatever burgeoning feels you might be developing for him.

 

You’re jolted out of your thoughts by the booming voice of Pastor Williams as you reach the front steps of the church.

 

“The Winchesters! It’s good to see you three.” He smiles, shaking Dean and Sam’s hands. “Pick any seat you’d like. It’ll be good to have some fresh faces today.” 

 

You sit down with Dean and Sam, and are forced into small talk with an older woman sitting to your left. Dean’s fingers are still loosely tangled with yours, almost like he’s forgotten he was even holding your hand to begin with. You need to clear your head, so you excuse yourself to find the restroom in the lobby.

 

.

.

 

Dean watches you go out of the corner of his eye, feeling on edge. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s never had this problem before, and he’s annoyed because they’re in the middle of a hunt. This is not the time for some friggin’ existential crisis. 

 

“Dude, she’ll be fine.” Sam says, and Dean glares.

 

“I know. I’m just-- you said it yourself. Someone already knows what we’re planning, or at least that we’re not who we say we are. I don’t like waiting.” 

 

“We just have to play our parts until the end of the service, and then we can do the summoning and get this over with.” Sam says, eyes darting around. 

 

Dean looks around as well, and notices the other townspeople in their seats looking around too. They’re fidgety, and it sets Dean’s teeth on edge. “Something’s not right.” He murmurs to Sam. “The service should have started by now.” 

 

Whispers are starting up around the room, and when the Pastor enters the room looking frazzled, Dean’s senses are on high alert, especially because you’re still not back yet. 

 

“Pastor,” he whispers, and watches as the Pastor, looking distracted, can barely make eye contact with him. “You didn’t see my lovely wife out there, did you?” 

 

“Ah… no, no I don’t think so. She’s probably just freshening up. Don’t worry, I don’t mind small interruptions to the service.” He says, heading to the front of the room before Dean or Sam can say anything else.

 

“Stay here.” Dean whispers, his gut feeling telling him to get out of there and go find you before something happens. He just hopes he isn’t too late.

 

.

.

 

You start cursing in the bathroom when the only overhead light shuts off for no good reason. You haven’t been in there long enough for any motion sensor lights to turn off, so you’re almost rolling your eyes with the predictability of it.

 

Of  _ course _ you’re being targeted as soon as you separate from the boys. Obviously this would happen when you don’t have your gun. You at least take solace in the fact that you were right thinking someone from the church is behind this whole thing, but you’re not sure how good that makes you feel, considering you could be dead in an hour. 

 

_ Dean. _ You hope he doesn’t come looking for you. This thing goes after couples, so maybe there’s still some hope if it only gets to you first. You could distract whoever’s doing its bidding long enough for Sam and Dean to do the summoning. That could work, right? 

 

You hear muffled voices outside the door and take a step back, trying to figure out an escape route. One of the voices you hear is definitely Pastor Williams, and you frown, wondering if his wife was really right about him. He sounds frustrated, however, and you press your ear against the door to try to hear more. 

 

“.... weren’t supposed to….. Both of them, or it won’t work.” 

 

“This isn’t a good idea.” Pastor Williams says, responding to the woman’s voice that you can’t pin down. 

 

“He’ll try to rescue her, like he always does, and we’ll have them both.” 

 

“I’m not sure about this. They’re just--”

 

“They’re not  _ just _ anyone!” The woman says, fierce. “They’re here for a reason. Somehow, they  _ know _ .” A beat. “Look, do you want it to take someone else? Someone else you actually care about? This is the perfect solution. They’re strangers.” 

 

“It’s not like you to be so uncaring.” 

 

“Well, we do what we have to. Now, I’m going to finish this. You should start the service before people get suspicious.” 

 

Scrambling backwards, you only have a few seconds to berate yourself for leaving your phone in Dean’s jacket pocket before the door flies open, hitting you in the head, leaving you seeing spots before everything turns black.

 

.

.

 

Dean’s tiptoeing through the darkened corridors of the church, gun in hand, and his jaw clenches when he hears the sounds of a struggle. Turning the corner, his pulse quickens when he sees a woman he doesn’t recognize going down a stairwell, right before the door at the top of the steps shuts and seals itself. 

 

He curses, yanking on the handle, even though he already knows it won’t open. He considers shooting it open, but figures that’s probably not a good idea when there’s a church full of people ten feet to his right. 

 

He knows you can hold your own, so as much as he hates to, he heads out to the Impala, texting Sam to meet him, feeling the weight of your phone still in his pocket. 

 

_ “How am I supposed to carry this around in this dress? Please?”  _  You’d said as you got dressed this morning, going on for five minutes about how purses were just invented as ways for women to get robbed and to slow them down. Despite his worries, Dean smiles remembering it. 

 

“Hey.” Sam slides into the passenger seat. “Where is she?” 

 

“They got her.” Dean says, jaw clenched. “We need to do the summoning.” 

 

“The timing-- we don’t have everything we need--” 

 

“Well too fucking bad. We’re not going to sit here and wait until she’s-- until she…” He trails off, unable to even finish the thought.

 

“It takes couples, Dean.” Sam says quietly. “We have time. As long as neither one of us get taken, we have leverage. If this is the same thing we fought a few years ago, then the ritual can’t be completed with just one person. We have time.” 

 

Dean starts the Impala. “We better be right about this.” He mutters. “We can’t-- we can’t lose someone else.” The last part comes out quiet, Dean allowing himself this one moment of vulnerability. 

 

“I know, Dean.” Sam says. “We’ll get her back.” 

 

Dean floors it to the house, hoping against all hope that they can scrounge up whatever they need for this summoning and kill whoever’s causing the disappearances before they hurt you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself if something happens to you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam are running out of time to do a summoning ritual and kill whatever’s hunting you down as you’re held captive. Dean also realizes he might be running out of time to tell you how he really feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last part! This part was what I actually had written first, as a potential one-shot that ended up inspiring all five parts. Thanks so much for reading!

When you come to, there are dark shadows moving around you, and instinctively you kick out, trying to free yourself. Your feet are tied together, and your hands are bound. 

 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” A voice says, and you grimace, looking up at the harsh light, wiling your vision to calm down so you can see properly. You’re dizzy, and can’t piece together what happened to you. “You know,” the voice says, “we’ve never heard of the Winchesters. Hard to believe, right? A group of famous hunters show up right on our doorstep, and we never even blinked. You almost had us fooled.” 

 

“What are you talking about?” You ask, deciding to play dumb. 

 

“There were a group of us, in Burkitsville. Over ten years ago now. They prayed to a different sort of God than we do, sure, but the idea was the same.” The woman comes into view, her face angry. “Your husband and his good for nothing brother almost wiped that town out.” 

 

You wrack your brains trying to remember Sam or Dean ever telling you about a case similar to this one, and you’re coming up blank. There’s so much about the brothers that you still don’t know. You only joined them a few years ago, and their backstory is so fraught with tragedy that you’ve tried not to pry. 

 

“We’ve worked so hard to do this the right way,” the woman says, and you recognize her vaguely, having seen her with Melissa a few times. “We tried to just grow our crops and promote our tourism. But no one came, and a drought wiped out everything. What were we supposed to do? Abandon it? No.”

 

“So what.” You interrupt, your voice rough from lack of use. “You’re praying to some… some pagan God?”

 

“First of all,” she points at you. “I didn’t start this. I’m just trying to keep this place afloat. If Pastor Williams and his wife don’t want to take responsibility for this, then I will.”  

 

“You’re sacrificing people.” 

 

She shakes her head sadly. “Don’t think of it that way. They volunteered! It was only this month that people started to question things. Our own pastor questioned everything, just because his wife talked him out of it.” She smiles cheerily at you then, her mood changing on a dime, “But then you and your husband came to town! And you were so nice, coming to Church and being all friendly. We should have known what you were really up to.” 

 

“Well, you didn’t.” You mutter, and then she’s right in your face, pulling your hair to yank your head backwards so you can see her eyes. 

 

“No, we didn’t. But it doesn’t matter now. Because you and Dean are going to be the next couple to appease our Saviour.” A crazed look enters her eyes.

 

“He’s not dumb enough to come after me. We know it’s been taking couples. If he doesn’t come here, your plan won’t work.” 

 

“We’ll just have to convince him to come, won’t we?” She says, and advances on you.

 

.

.

 

Dean’s entire body is tense with nervous energy. He fuckin’ hates this. This entire plan was put together on the hope that the three of you didn’t get separated, and now he has no idea what will happen if they summon this pagan God without you here. With only two people, it’s less of a chance that it’ll go off without a hitch.

 

Sam is just about to start the ritual when someone starts pounding on the door. Dean grabs his gun off the table and heads over, a storm brewing in his eyes, especially when he opens the door to see Pastor Williams there.

 

“You better have a reason for being here, or so help me--”

 

“You can’t do the spell.” The Pastor says. “Please.” Over his shoulder, Dean sees a short woman who must be Connie Williams, and he softens, just a fraction.

 

“Get inside before someone hears you.” He says, moving out of the way and checking down the street to make sure no one is following them. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

 

Sam stands. “Why wouldn’t you want us to end this? Isn’t this thing after your wife?” 

 

“The entire town will be decimated if we go back on our deal. If we stop praying… I don’t know what will happen.” Pastor Williams says, and Dean laughs, bitterly.

 

“You’re really going to put your wife’s life at risk?” 

 

“To save the town. We’ll do what we have to do,” Connie says, finally speaking up for the first time since coming through the door.

 

“Look, no dice. Sorry, but this thing has my--” Dean catches himself, “-- my wife, and I’m not going to sit around waiting for it to try to kill her.” 

 

“It won’t kill her. All you have to do is pray, and you can appease it.” 

 

“You’ve been sacrificing couples this entire time! That’s the only reason the praying has worked! You can’t possibly be--”  Dean trails off, seeing the stricken looks on the Pastor and Connie’s faces. “You didn’t know. You didn’t do it.” 

 

Sam looks at Dean, confusion on his face. “What?” 

 

“They didn’t know. They really thought their prayers were working.” 

 

“We--” Pastor Williams interrupts, swallowing hard. “We knew we weren’t praying to our true Lord. But we thought-- we thought that by praying, we were doing what it wanted. We thought the disappearances were coincidence. We thought if we kept praying, we could keep the economy up  _ and _ pray so no more people would go missing.” 

 

“A coincidence? Really?” Sam mutters. 

 

“We don’t have time for this.” Dean growls. “We’re going to summon this thing, and we’re going to kill it. No more people are going to go missing.” 

 

“Dean, wait. If they’re not actively doing the sacrifices--” Sam says, ignoring Connie’s quick breath of air at the word, “-- someone is. All the lore I’ve found says that the prayers won’t be answered unless there is a sacrifice, and someone has to facilitate it.” 

 

“If it’s not you two…” Dean says, looking at Connie and her husband. “Then who is it? Who else knows about this?” 

 

“Melissa.” Pastor Williams says. “Melissa and--” 

 

“Amanda. Her daughter.” Connie says, sounding like she could cry at any moment. 

 

.

.

 

When Melissa finally comes into view, you could weep with relief. You suspected her from the beginning, but she doesn’t look like someone ready to make a sacrifice. She looks scared.

 

“Amanda--” She starts, “Maybe we should re-think this. What if he doesn’t--”

 

“He’s going to come,” Amanda says firmly. “They’re attached at the hip. Besides, he’s a hunter. He’s not going to waste an opportunity to make a valiant rescue.” She laughs. 

 

“This is too much. These are  _ strangers _ \--” 

 

“Aren’t you tired of losing people, Mom?” Amanda asks, and you jolt at the word. “Everyone that’s gone before her… they’ve been people we know. Friends. We don’t have to do that anymore! We found out it doesn’t care who the couples are, just as long as someone is sacrificed when we pray.” 

 

“Pastor Williams--” 

 

“Pastor Williams started this! It’s his fault that we’re stuck at the mercy of this--” Amanda says loudly, before she stops, trying to calm herself down. “It wants Connie and Pastor Williams, and they’re not willing. They don’t have to be. We can do this. We  _ have _ to do this.” 

 

“You know,” you interrupt loudly, “Trying to tell yourself that killing strangers will make you feel better about this whole thing won’t work.” 

 

“Stop talking.” 

 

“You’ll keep trying to tell yourself that because you don’t know me, it feels different, but it doesn’t. You’ll still have nightmares.” As you’re talking, you slowly start to twist your way out of the ropes. It burns like a son of a bitch, but you can’t just sit here while they bicker over how fast they want to kill you.

 

You hope you’re right - you don’t need Dean to play the White Knight right now. You need him to summon this thing and kill it, and  _ then _ come and break you out of here before these crazy people try to sacrifice you to a god that doesn’t exist anymore. 

 

.

.

 

The summoning went wrong. Dean doesn't know how, or why, but as far as he’s concerned, they’re all lucky that they got out of there in one piece. He’s so angry at himself because now this thing is out there, and if crazy Amanda has already started the sacrificing ritual, it’s only a matter of time before it gets to you. 

 

He and Sam are speeding the Impala to the church, his knuckles so tight on the steering wheel they’re white. “I knew I should have gone after her the minute I saw her go missing.” Dean growls. 

 

“You had the right idea. We didn’t know the spell would go wrong.” Sam says, trying to be reassuring. 

 

“If we’re too late--”

 

“We’re not.” Sam says, firm. “We’re going to get to her in time. We always do.” 

 

When they get to the church, Dean swears when he sees one of the doors half off the hinges. “It’s already here.” He says, and Sam doesn’t say anything this time.

 

.

 

Amanda’s crazed expression brightens when the rumble of the Impala can be heard over the noise of the lights flickering. “He came to save you after all!” 

 

“Yeah, well. Too bad for you, I guess.” You said. “You’re not worried about all this?” You ask, gesturing towards the flickering lights. “Seems like the guest of honor is here.” 

 

“I’m doing this  _ for _ him.” She says, eyes narrowing. “Let’s not keep him waiting.” She advances on you, and for a half second, fear courses through your veins. You struggle against the bonds still on your ankles, and the door bursts open just as Amanda is about to take her knife to you, making her miss your chest. She still gets you, the knife sinking into your shoulder, and you let out a strangled scream as Dean and Sam run in, guns drawn. 

 

“Put the knife down, bitch.” Dean’s voice makes a tear partly of pain and partly of relief slip out of your eye, and while Dean has his gun trained on Amanda, Sam rushes over to you, cutting through the ropes keeping you bound quickly. 

 

“You’re going to be okay.” He says softly, “let’s get you out of here.” 

 

“It’s a trap. Sam, it’s--” You say loudly, panicking when you see Melissa coming out from a shadowy corner behind Dean. “Duck!” You yell, and Dean does, just in time. 

 

“Melissa!” You shout, “It doesn’t have to be like this.” You tell her, trying to be placating. “You said it yourself. This was never supposed to go this far.” 

 

The lights flicker again, and Melissa meets your eyes with her own tear-filled ones. “I’m sorry. But he’s here, and he’ll be so angry. We can’t--”

 

“Too late,” Dean growls. “He’s already angry. Considering I tried to kill him fifteen minutes ago. So here’s how this goes. You let my friend out of here and we’ll try to get you out too.” He faces Amanda. “Even though you don’t deserve it.” 

 

The steps to the basement creak ominously, and out of habit, Sam shoves you behind him, mindful of your shoulder. Dean lunges for his duffle and grabs the holy oil, pouring it in a generous circle around the five of you. 

 

“You really think that’s going to work?” Sam asks, and Dean glares at him.

 

“We’re running out of options. The spell didn’t work, and last time I checked, we don’t have a pagan god-killing knife handy.”

 

“Just light it!” You hiss, “Or we’re all dead anyway!” 

 

Dean lights the ring, and tosses an angel blade to you and Sam. “Closest thing we’ve got.” He mutters, getting inside the circle next to you. “Hang in there, sweetheart.” He says, eyeing your wound. You’re applying pressure, but the pain is almost unbearable. 

 

“Wait.” Sam says, suddenly. “Dean, the Vanir in Indiana that we killed before. We had to find that tree, where it got its power from. You remember?” 

 

“We lit it up.” Dean agrees. He turns to Melissa and Amanda, who look genuinely terrified. “What is it? What’s keeping this thing ticking?” 

 

“I--” Melissa stutters, “I don’t know, we don’t know all the details--”

 

“Think!” Sam yells, “There has to be something. Something old, something that’s protected in this town.” 

 

“The fountain.” Amanda says. “In town square. There’s a tree-- it’s planted in the middle and the fountain was built around it. It’s been there forever.”

 

“How are we going to get out?” 

 

“A distraction.” Dean says, a grin on his face. “Gods love me.” He winks at you, and you shake your head. 

 

“It’s a suicide mission, Dean.” 

 

“It’ll get you out.” He says quietly, eyes locked on yours. Something is charged in the air between you, and he looks away, swallowing hard. “Let’s do this.” 

 

Dean runs out of the room, up the stairs, and you hear something let out a ear-splitting screech. You cover your ears, and barely register Sam tugging on your arm, pulling you up the stairs behind him. 

 

“Get in the Impala. I’ll take care of this. Dean will kill me if I let you fight with your arm like that.”

 

“I can handle myself!” 

 

Sam groans, “I know you can, but--” A loud crash from the front doors of the church makes you stop your argument, and you turn quickly to see Dean running as fast as he can. 

 

“Hurry the hell up!” He shouts, and Sam takes off, already dousing the tree with gasoline by the time Dean catches up. Dean’s got his lighter out, but before he can do anything, it’s knocked from his hands by an otherworldly force, causing you to swear as you watch from the curb. 

 

“Goddammit.” You mutter, rifling through the trunk of the Impala quickly until you find some matches. Looking up, you see Sam and Dean in a literal wrestling match with this thing, and you run full speed towards the tree while they’re all distracted, ignoring the searing pain in your shoulder.

 

You light the match as you scramble over the fountain, uncaring about the hems of your jeans and boots getting wet, and you fling the lit match towards the tree. It takes a minute to catch, but when it does, you breath a sigh of relief when you hear another loud shriek, seeing it literally go up in flames before it disintegrates. 

 

Dean and Sam look up at you as you all try to catch your breath, and you glare. “That’s why you don’t try to sideline me.” You say. 

 

“Kid, come down from there before you--”

 

“I don’t feel good.” You mumble, the pain in your arm finally more than you can take. You see Dean and Sam both lunge towards you, but then everything goes black.

 

.

.

 

You wake up in the bedroom you’ve been staying in at the house, confused. Your arm hurts, and your head hurts, and you can’t remember the last couple of hours during the hunt.

 

“You’re awake.” Dean says from the chair next to the bed, and you look at him, taking in his two-day stubble and dark undereye circles. “You’ve been out for awhile.”

 

“What happened?” 

 

“What happened is you ganked the monster, sweetheart. Kicked it in the ass, like you always do.” He smiles sheepishly. “Sam told me he tried to tell you to wait in the car.”

 

“Yeah, well. I passed out, so he wasn’t wrong.”

 

“Still. You saved our sorry asses.”

 

“How-- how’d you work out where I was?” 

 

“I knew you were in the Church. I just missed you when I went to check on you during the service. We came back here figuring if we did the summoning and killed it, we’d stop it before they could hurt you.” His eyes linger on the dressing over the stab wound on your shoulder, and his face darkens. He clears his throat. “That part didn’t work out so well.”

 

“It’s not your fault.” You say, your hand landing on his on top of the blankets. A  _ clink _ noise draws your attention to the fact that both of you still have your fake wedding rings on. The sight of them makes your heart rate speed up. 

 

He tells you everything -- how Pastor Williams and Connie came to the house, and tried to stop Sam and Dean from doing the summoning, to how the summoning spell went wrong, and they had to hightail it back to town to get to you in time. 

 

You frown. “I heard Pastor Williams with Amanda before they-- well, I assume it was them. Before someone hit me in the head and I blacked out. He was in on it, Dean. I heard her telling him about it.” 

 

Dean’s face darkens even more. “He came here asking for our help. Tried to convince us not to do it.” 

 

“Amanda kept saying that the Pastor and Connie weren’t willing anymore. Did they explain any of that to you?”

 

“Not really. They seemed to not know the extent of the ritual. I think they just thought that people were being taken to participate.”

 

“But Connie… her entire house was protected, like she knew it would kill her if it found her.” 

 

“I don’t…. I don’t know the whole of it. I’m not worried about them anymore.” Dean says, reaching for your shoulder gently. “We killed the thing. It’s gone. Now we just have to get the hell out of here and get you healed up.” 

 

You lay back on the mountain of pillows behind you, still feeling unsatisfied. You have so many unanswered questions, but you think Sam and Dean were right the entire time. These people were just doing whatever they could to keep their town afloat, and somewhere along the way, they stopped caring who they hurt by doing so.

 

“So this whole fake marriage thing wasn’t an  _ entire _ waste of time, then.” You say, joking, but stop smiling when you see the look on Dean’s face. He seems… hurt. 

 

“Not a total waste, no.” He agrees, quietly. “I’m gonna get more painkillers. I’ll be right back.” 

 

He leaves before you can say anything else, or figure out why you want him to stay so badly.

 

.

.

 

Dean’s halfway to his bedroom to go through his bag and scrounge for some painkillers when he stops in his tracks. He’s tired of the act. He remembers the look on your face when they finally got to you, the relief that was gone in a split second as you were stabbed right in front of him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that.

 

He turns around, heading back to your bedroom, steps determined, even though he feels shaky. This could make or break one of the most important things in his life… but he’s tired of feeling lost all the time. He’s tired of feeling like he has nothing and no one left. Cas is back, sure, but the pain of losing Cas, and his mother… it’s too much. He can’t let more time go by without you knowing how he feels and risk losing you, too. 

 

You look up, startled, when he comes back in, but he doesn’t give you any time to say anything. He’s still worried he might talk himself out of this. 

 

“Dean?” You ask, sounding like you know something’s up, and he thinks it’s just another thing to add to the list of why you’re  _ it _ for him. You know him, like almost nobody else does, and he’s suddenly angry at himself for waiting for so long, for not listening to himself months ago when he first started to feel like maybe you were more to him than a friend.

 

“Look, all this -- almost losing you, I…” Dean takes a shaky breath. “I can’t pretend anymore. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”  His stomach swoops and pulse starts pounding as he takes a half step closer to you, trying to get the words out as he continues talking, his voice hoarse. “I can’t go back to the bunker and wake up every morning and pretend that I don’t want you.”

 

Your mouth opens like you want to say something, and then closes again. He almost laughs, because he’s not really sure where to go from here, either. “You… kid, you’ve been with me through all the shit we’ve had to deal with over the last five years. I’ve--” his voice wavers, “I’ve lost everything. You’ve been there the entire time, and you didn’t run from me, not even when I was lost in booze, and…” he trails off. “I’m crazy about you, kid.” He says, smiling sadly. “I’m just tired of you not knowing that.”

 

You laugh, the sound making his insides twist, and he watches as your face transforms into a smile unlike anything he’s ever seen from you before. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this when I’m laid up with an injury.” 

 

He grins. “Why, you gonna jump me?” 

 

“Maybe.” You say, throwing his entire world into a tailspin. It’s one thing to know that you have feelings for him, but to admit that you’ve been  _ lusting _ after him like he has for you… well, that’s another thing entirely. “Come here.” You say, your words quiet, but the order behind them clear. 

 

Dean comes closer, sitting on the edge of your bed until he can reach out and touch you gently, tucking your hair behind your ears. He leans closer, hand sliding up until it’s cradling your jaw, his mind going blank with how close you are. “Kid--” He starts to say something, to reassure you somehow, but you stop him. 

 

“Shh.” You say, before using your free hand to grab the hem of his shirt, pulling him down to meet you, your mouths fusing together like this is the only thing either one of you are meant to be doing for the rest of time. 

 

Dean’s entire body goes taut with lust and love as he pours everything he’s been feeling for months into his kiss -- his arms shake with the emotion of it as he tries to hold himself up and keep his weight off your injured shoulder. You lost so much blood earlier, it’s hard to believe you’re able to kiss him like you are. 

 

Your mouth meets his over and over again, opening under his until he slides his tongue inside, causing both of you to groan into each other’s mouths. He puts his left knee on the bed for leverage, causing you to arch up to meet him, the sight of you underneath him almost too much for him to handle. “Hold on, hold on…” he murmurs against your lips, trying to catch his breath. “We have to slow down.” 

 

You frown up at him, the wrinkle between your eyebrows so endearing that Dean can’t help but place another sweet kiss on your temple. “Do we, though?” You ask, mischief shining in your bright eyes, and Dean groans. 

 

“You’re gonna kill me.” 

 

“Not my intention, but I’m just saying… I’ve never known you to want to slow down.” 

 

Dean runs his thumb along your full bottom lip, eyes zeroing in on the way your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, too. “Maybe slow is all I want right now.” He says, his voice a low rumble. 

 

“Is that right?” You ask, voice coy. Dean wonders idly if he’ll ever be able to look at you again without imagining you like this - warm and flushed underneath him. 

 

“Mmm.” He says, nose dragging up the side of your jaw until he can nudge your hair out of the way, pressing kisses to your ear. “Think I wanna take my time with you.”  You shiver, a full-body shudder that has him grinning as he captures your lips again. “You like the idea of that, huh?” 

 

“Want you any way I can get you, Dean.” You admit, blush forming on your cheeks.

 

Dean shakes his head in wonder. “You’re perfect.” He whispers, “Should have done this months ago. Should have taken you to bed as soon as I admitted to myself that it wasn’t just your brains I liked.” 

 

“Oh yeah? What else do you like?” 

 

Dean chuckles, hands slowly undoing the buttons of your flannel shirt. “You want a list?” He hums absently. “Well, I like the way you don’t take any shit. Not from me, not from Sam, not from anyone. I like the way you take care of me, even when I don’t know I need it yet.” He finishes undoing your buttons, slowly sliding your shirt off your shoulders, being careful of your bandages. “I like the noise you make when I touch you right here.” His fingers drift over your collarbone, feather-light, and you let out a moan that he swears he’ll be hearing in his dreams for years. 

 

He stops talking for awhile, content to kiss you and touch you and let you do the same to him. Both of your hands are wandering until the kisses ratchet up in intensity, leading to your legs parting to make room for him as he settles between your thighs, your hips bucking into his when he hits a particularly sensitive area. 

 

At some point the two of you roll over so you’re on top, and he stops for a breathless moment to stare up at you, and take it all in.

 

.

.

 

Dean is almost frozen underneath you, and the way he keeps looking at you is sending fire through your veins every time you catch his eyes. He looks at you like he never wants this moment to end, like he’d be content with letting the foreplay go on forever as long as it meant you’d be here with him. 

 

It’s almost too much, but it’s perfect. It’s  _ Dean _ . You’ve never seen him as vulnerable as he was when he came to you earlier to confess how he felt. His admission of having lost everyone was too much for you, and you hope he never has to feel like that ever again. Not while you’re around.

 

You take his clothes off slowly, admiring every single shift of his muscles and the way his slightly tanned skin looks in the evening light through the single window in the room. You laugh lightly when your breath tickles his stomach, causing his muscles to jump, and your heart races as the predatory look in his eyes when he sees you laughing. 

 

“Do something, sweetheart.” He says, not quite begging, but the words hit you heavy regardless. Your entire body tightens, listening to him, and you don’t say anything as you scramble off the bed to rifle through your bag to find some condoms. You come back to the bed as fast as you can, quickly rolling it on him before you can feel nervous. “Hey,” he says gently, hand on your jaw, “It’s just us here, okay? Nothin’ to worry about.” 

 

You nod, and kiss him quickly before lowering yourself on top of him, the drag of him inside you enough to make you see stars as your head tilts backwards. Dean lets out this half-groan, half-moan, and you immediately want to hear the noise again a hundred more times. 

 

“Move, baby. Please, move.” He says, and you listen to him this time, quickly finding a rhythm that has the both of you panting in a few minutes. “You’re so tight. So, so tight.” He says, almost to himself, and you groan his name, hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you pick up your pace. 

 

“Dean…” You say, warning him, knowing it’s not going to take long before you’re spent. You’ve wanted this for way too long. 

 

“Me too,” he groans, “Let me feel you. I want it, sweetheart. Come on.” He whispers, encouraging words lighting you up from the inside out until you’re left feeling nothing but euphoria from the tips of your fingers all the way down to your toes. 

 

Dean keeps you upright, despite him struggling to catch his own breath, and slowly you both come down from your high. Eventually, you pull off him, laying down next to him, happy when he immediately pulls you close to his side, his arm going around your uninjured shoulder. 

 

His left hand finds yours, holding up your fingers in the dimming light. “You should keep this.” He says, thumb rubbing over the ring still on your finger. Your pulse spikes, and he’s quick to elaborate, “Just… you don’t have to wear it. But keep it, okay? It’s… it’s been in the family for a long time. It’s good luck.”

 

“I can’t--”

 

“I want you to have it.” He says, and there’s something there again, that vulnerability that you know no one but his brother has ever seen. You could weep with how special you feel that he’s picking you to be the one he shares it with.

 

“Okay.” You whisper. “What are you going to do with yours?” 

 

You feel him smile against your hairline. “I don’t know. I used to wear it. After a while I didn’t want to anymore. Felt like… I don’t know. Felt like all the extra weight I carried around, I didn’t need this thing too.” 

 

“Still… seems handy.” You say, tilting your head up so you can see his face. “At the very least, you could open up a couple beers with that thing.” 

 

Dean tilts his head back as he laughs, tugging you closer. “A girl after my own heart, truly.” He says, leaning down to kiss you again.  “Things are going to be tough, you know.” He says, after, somberly. “Things are going to come after you once they get wind of us.” 

 

You roll your eyes. “I can handle it.” 

 

“I know you can. I’m just saying… you’re sure you want to?” 

 

You flip over onto your stomach so he can see your face. “I’m in it for the long haul, Dean. Try to get rid of me. I dare you.” 

 

He smiles at you, green eyes blazing. “I think I’ll keep you around, kid.” 

 

“Good.” You say, linking your hands together again. 

 

“Good.” He echoes, before kissing you, igniting the fire between the two of you once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who’s stuck with this! I truly had the the best time writing this and hold this story really close to my heart. Please check out my masterlist on [my blog](http://sunlightdances.tumblr.com) to see everything else I’ve written (I don't have everything on AO3 yet) - and leave me a note if you’d like a prompt filled or have any questions! Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slowly uploading my SPN reader insert fic to AO3. In the meantime, you can read this fic in its entirety and others on my blog: [@sunlightdances](http://sunlightdances.tumblr.com).


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